


Coded Echoes

by jaskiersvalley (connorssock)



Series: Geraskier Week [7]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Bittersweet, Family Feels, Hurt Jaskier, Hurt Minimal Comfort, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:25:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/jaskiersvalley
Summary: Everyone always rejected Jaskier. It was about time he got first dibs on saying no to someone.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Week [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650898
Comments: 12
Kudos: 343





	1. Coded Echoes

Some rumours travelled fast. Others died on the wind. And, sometimes, Jaskier had a hand in that. The fact that he no longer travelled with Geralt was brushed under the rug, he didn’t want to dwell on that mountain top scene. It was the hiding of this that proved to be his downfall, arrested in an inn while he was half way through playing. Jaskier was dragged to some camp against his wishes but, at least, his lute was carried with more care than Jaskier himself.

In a way, he should have expected being tied to a post and beaten before anyone even said a word to him. The punches to the gut hurt, the fists to his jaw threaten to loosen his teeth. Each time he tried to speak, a booted foot made contact with some part of him. The dull agony became an all consuming fire until he couldn’t even breathe. Which was when it all stopped. A lanky figure loomed above him, sent the lackeys out.

“You’d do well to listen and be honest.” The man’s voice was soft, gentle with a caring tone that sang of insincerity. “We know that the Witcher has claimed the Child Surprise. And that the Sorceress travels with them. Where are they?”

“I don’t know.” Jaskier’s left eye was swollen shut, the right barely open enough to see. His nose was freely dribbling snot with blood while red tinged spit trickled past swollen, split lips.

The backhand whipped his head to the side and the man leaned down, gripping Jaskier’s chin to force him to meet his gaze.

“You saw what we’re capable of. We went easy on you. Where are they?”

Tears streamed down Jaskier’s cheeks as he tried to shake his head. Despite his songs and adventures, he didn’t like violence, especially not directed at him. His words weren’t taken seriously, the man slapped him again, so his cheeks stung equally.

“You don’t have to tell us, don’t worry. Because he’ll come for you then.”

After that, Jaskier was left alone. The man walked out of the tent with his lute. Slowly, pain abated, Jaskier still struggled to draw a deep breath thanks to his ribs protesting but it wasn’t all consuming. Some idiot had kidnapped him because they wanted Geralt. Or Ciri. Maybe even Yennefer.

On some level, Jaskier had known that the three of them were travelling together, content with each other’s company. He tried not to dwell on it too much because it hurt to think that they didn’t have room for him. That they never came to find him, Geralt never apologised, Ciri never asked to find the bard from the courts.

Time passed outside of Jaskier’s real notice. At some point someone threw some water over him with a cruel laugh of “have something to drink” and some stale bread was crammed between his parched lips, pressing on bruises and opening up wounds.

“They’re not coming for you.” The man from before was sat in front of Jaskier when he woke up. “There’s word of them hunting far from here and travelling further from you with each day. Do you really mean so little to them?”

The question hurt, Jaskier felt too weak to hold back on the tears as he watched the man caress his lute and poke at the metaphorical wound with unerring accuracy.

“They’ve abandoned you. All the love you poured into that Witcher, he’s left you behind to play happy families. All he has done is built a unit of abomination. That’s not a family, is it?” Jaskier didn’t know what to say. He certainly didn’t expect the ties that had made his arms numb to be loosened. “I know you still love them. And I’m sorry. But maybe, you’ll learn to find a better place to offer your love to. I’m Cahir. Let me show you what family could be.”

It was a turning point. Jaskier was patched up, given a soft bed to sleep on and his lute was left in his care again. There was not a scratch on it. Deep in Nilfgaardian camp, Jaskier knew he had no way out. Despite news of his capture, nobody had come. No Witcher, no Sorceress, not even his own family. Once again, Jaskier had been rejected and abandoned. It hurt, especially because his heart was still beating for Geralt. But there wasn’t much he could do. And here, in the camp, Jaskier was being shown kindness. Acceptance. When he was healed enough, Cahir even took him to the food tent where someone asked him to play his songs.

In the end, it wasn’t much of a choice. He could reject Nilfgaard, tell Cahir where to shove it. But he would be killed then, or, even worse, cast aside. For the first time, Jaskier had a choice, a first refusal. Out of love, he chose to stay. His songs became catchy, cheery jaunts that were easy to pass on. Wherever the Nilfgaardians travelled, Jaskier was there too, singing his songs in taverns. They all spoke of a black raven or a crow, sometimes even a jackdaw and its travels. The towns they passed through, flying to the North or South as their company moved. It was all he could do. The family that he had helped bring together, that his heart still belonged to, he was doing it for them. His songs were a warning, travelling ahead of the Nilfgaardians, helping his family stay out of harm’s way. Helping them stay far away from him too. But that’s what family did, sacrificed themselves so the others could live.


	2. Faded Echoes

The tide of war was turning. Nilfgaard was retreating, sealing its borders and pulling troops back. Its infection of the lands was withering. Jaskier’s songs continued to be sung through the continent, no longer attributed to his name but they were songs of hope, of the wolf who snatched the raven from the air. The walls of Nilfgaard stood dark and unforgiving as Jaskier approached them with the troops he’d been travelling with. Cahir’s helmet no longer boasted a high plume of feathers, the people around him were beaten and tired.

As they marched, Jaskier found himself falling towards the back until he was the last one, bringing up the rear. He didn’t want to pass through those gates, they would swallow him and never let him go. But he had chosen his fate when he still held hope that maybe Geralt would hear his songs and come for him. Last he heard though, the three had been seen near Kaer Morhen. It was so far away, Jaskier swallowed hard to keep the tears at bay. He’d played his role in the war, chose his own fate. Not that it ever really was much of a choice.

There was a woosh from behind him and a breeze which carried the scent of the sea. Wishful thinking, Jaskier chided himself. It had been years. Only a fool still carried hope and a torch for someone who so obviously didn’t care.

“Jaskier.” The wind carried his name in familiar tones and Jaskier froze. How he wanted to turn, to find Geralt there. But over the years, it had happened so many times, he turned with hope only to have his heart crushed a little more. “Come home.”

That wasn’t something the wind had ever whispered to him before. Turning, eyes already brimming with tears of disappointment, Jaskier gasped. There was Geralt. Looking more weathered, a scar running over his left eye but he stood by a portal. A hand reached for Jaskier. “You helped win the war. But come home to us. We missed you. I missed you.”

They were words Jaskier would have paid to hear years ago. Now, they made his knees give out. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw how the troops marched on, not caring whether he was amongst them. All along, he’d fooled himself to think that he’d maybe found a family who wanted him amongst Nilfgaard. They only cared for his entertainment.

A warm hand clasped his shoulder, Geralt knelt in front of him, words whispered softly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, come home. Let us make amends.”

Nodding, Jaskier let himself be guided back to his feet and through the portal which made his stomach turn. They were near Kaer Morhen, just outside its perimeter. Yennefer and Ciri stood to the side, both weathered and changed by the war. While Yennefer only nodded, Ciri barrelled into Jaskier, hugging him close.

The tears were flowing freely. Jaskier clung to Ciri even as he watched Geralt nod to Yennefer who rolled her eyes and jerked her head towards Jaskier.

“Ciri. We will have time to jubilation later. Come now, the idiots need to talk.”

As Ciri broke away and turned to Yennefer, she darted to whisper in Jaskier’s ear, “he loves you. Don’t come to dinner until he actually tells you that himself. We’ve been hearing his sullen whining for years.”

A joint yell of “Ciri!” from Geralt and Yennefer had her laughing and running off, ahead of the sorceress. It left Jaskier and Geralt on the beach.

“You helped win the war. I don’t know how you managed to infiltrate Nilfgaard like that but without you, it wouldn’t have happened.” Geralt started. “My only regret is, I never could apologise before you disappeared like that. Impossible to trace, I was always three villages behind you for the year I chased.”

So Geralt had been trying to find him. Jaskier felt his world tip a little at the revelation.

“I was taken because Cahir thought you and the other two would come for me. Then I chose to stay because they at least wanted my company. Well, they wanted my songs.”

Geralt looked like he’d swallowed a lemon at that. He stared at Jaskier and it was obvious that he had something to say but not the words for it. In the end, Jaskier shook his head and turned away. Ciri had been wrong.

“Wait!” Geralt’s voice broke. “I wanted to come. But I had a child to worry about. And by the time she was safe, I lost you.”

Once again, someone was more important than Jaskier. He knew it wasn’t what Geralt was saying but that was what he heard.

“I wasn’t allowed to come find you after a while. Your help too valuable for the war. I wanted to. So badly.”

A hand was reaching for Jaskier again and he swayed towards it. He was done fighting. Done having his heart crushed over and over again by those who didn’t want him. This was his last chance. Tired of running, tired of pretending, of being someone he wasn’t. As soon as he was within Geralt’s reach, he was being pulled in, hugged and held. A soft “I love you” ghosted against the shell of his ear. He couldn’t return the sentiment, not yet. But, given time, he hoped his heart could be patched up enough that he could love a man and not just an idea again.

**Author's Note:**

> @jaskiersvalley on tumblr is where you'll find more from me.


End file.
